


A Small Piece of your Soul

by Miss_Amby



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:11:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Amby/pseuds/Miss_Amby
Summary: Everything has an aura to it, a special fingerprint that was just theirs. That didn't mean some didn't get tangled with others sometimes.





	A Small Piece of your Soul

Inspiration for this fic came from this song:   [ The Arrangement by Oliver ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTOdbnUG4uY)

  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Most everything had an aura or something to them, a reflection of their inner nature that was unique to them.  For humans it was their soul, for angels (even including Fallen ones) it was their grace.

 

Aziraphale’s grace was a lovely grey-silver, like the clouds just before a gentle rainfall.  Something soft, but could become dangerous. Crowley’s grace*  was gold like his eyes and molten metal; harsh and deadly all at once.  When the world had first started, they had used their powers to go after each other, but by the time of Christ it was too much; too many humans around to get hurt, too much work to get a body back, and well, they were starting to become more friends than enemies.  It just wasn’t worth the effort to smite or burn each other.

 

The last time they had their graces meet was a handshake for their Arrangement.  It was the best way to seal their deal and very human at the same time. A spoken agreement between two acquaintances that would last longer than any paper they could keep safe.  At the time they had both gasped at the feeling; of cool hitting warm, of divine hitting occult. They didn’t think anything of it at the time until centuries later.

(*Which was a term only used by the few “Fallen Demons” left in Hell.  There were so many more human-made demons that those that had been angels could almost be counted by a child just entering school.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

It was common for Crowley to be lounging around the bookshop after the Apocalypse that wasn’t. After dealing with their respective head offices they had been left well enough alone, with only minor jobs being thrown their way; as if to just remind them that they were still an angel and a demon and humans still needed some sort of interference at times.

 

Really all the action had moved over to America, the poor saps.

 

That just meant that Crowley and Aziraphale were left mainly on their own to do what they pleased which meant most days being in the bookshop before having dinner and drinks.

 

On one such day, a young woman with bright pink hair walked into the shop and stared at a man sprawled out in an armchair until he sighed and looked up from the crossword he had been working on, an eyebrow cranking over the lens. 

 

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s impolite to stare?”

 

“What are you?” Her words were harsh and quick but also loud.  It was enough to drag the angel from the backroom, pushing his glasses up on his face.

 

“Ma’am if you’re going to raise your voice I’ll have to ask you to leave.”  She whipped around at who she assumed as the bookshop owner and something slide from her sleeve into her hand.  She pointed it at him and Crowley jumped up from his seat and slide in between her weapon and his friend.

 

“Witch!  What are you doing here?”  The demon’s voice was harsh and with a small sigh Aziraphale pushed his friend gently out of the way.  

 

“Dear, why don’t you put that down and explain what you’re doing.  I would hate to have a fight in here.”

 

She glared at both of them before slowing lowering her wand.  With a flick of his hand the blinds closed and the door locked.  It wouldn’t keep her in but it would be enough to guarantee privacy.

 

“Now put the wand away and have a seat and we can talk about this like civilized people.  Crowley, would you go and get the biscuits from the back? I’ll take care of the tea and then you can explain why you came in started threatening us.”  The demon hissed under his breath but did as asked, returning a few minutes later to the counter with the tin in hand. There was a pot of tea and three cups ready for the conversation. 

 

“Let’s start with names.  I’m Aziraphale and this is my friend Crowley and you are…” he nodded at the woman and she took a sip of her tea before answering.

 

“I’m Rose.  I had heard about a bookshop that was known for rare books and was hoping to find a grimoire I needed for research.  Instead I walk in and find...well what are the two of you? Your...auras? Graces? They’re all mixed up.”

 

The angel made a face while Crowley’s eyebrows shot up.  “Lisssten here girl. No one sssshould be able to sssssee that.  What. Are. You.” the demon’s voice was low and his nature was slipping though but it didn’t phase the woman.

 

“I am a witch as you pointed out earlier.  I’m also one with the gift of seeing things not there. You both...I know you’re not human but past that something is off.”  Rose sipped her tea as the two seemed to have a conversation without speaking before looking back at her.

 

“Why don’t you tell us what you see and then we’ll tell you.  But after that you’re off. I don’t keep grimoires here, it’s too dangerous.” The look Aziraphale was giving her left no room for argument.  Whatever they were, witchcraft must not get along with them.

 

“Very well.  Aziraphale you’re grey silver in color.  Well there’s a part of you that’s not. It’s like you have bits of melted gold mixed in with you.  And you Crowley, you’re all golden but there are bits of silver in yours. It’s like the two of you tried to make a marbled cake out of each other by sharing your batter.”  As she spoke she watched their eyes get large before Aziraphale carefully placed his saucer and cup down and sighed behind his hand before speaking.

 

“We...we’ve been here a long time.  I’m an angel and he’s a demon. Please, no questions.  It seems like we have a lot to discuss and you have a book to try and find.  Have a good rest of the day.” Crowley said nothing during this whole time, just sat there quietly as Aziraphale hustled the witch out of the store.  Once she was gone he relocked the door and flipped the sign to close.Letting out a huge sigh he took his glasses off and sat them on the counter before turning to his friend.

 

“Crowley?  Dear, are you ok? Here, let’s head to the back, I think we need something stronger than tea right now.”  With a wave of his hand the tea dishes were put away and a bottle of whiskey appeared on the counter beside the demon.  Crowley didn’t even wait for a glass, he just opened it and drank straight from it before following Aziraphale to their normal drinking area.  The angel made glasses appear and the demon filled them before they settled down across from each other.

 

“Do you...when was the last time we looked at our graces?  How many centuries has it been?” Too soon their first glass was empty and they moved onto their second.

 

“Well I don’t know Angel, probably what, early AD’s?  Yeah, that sounds about right. We shook on it and everything.” The second glass then became a third and a pleasant buzz was filling them both.

 

“We should...we should probably figure out what she meant.  Come on, give me your hands.” Aziraphale sat his glass down and held his hands with palms out.  Grumbling Crowley slammed his glass down and took his hands, fingers curling around each other.

 

Humans could only see what was on the surface while some, such as Rose, could see a little bit past that.  Other supernatural beings could see even farther than that and see even more of the true nature of a creature.  For Aziraphale and Crowley they had known each other for so long and were so used to each others company that they just ignored a lot of the other person.  At the same time it was easy to let the other in, the layers of trust and friendship allowing this experience of seeming their metaphysical form to be simple and easy.

 

Their humans forms seemed to melt away revealing hidden wings and claws, sharp teeth and crowns.  There was still something humanoid to their shapes but if anyone came in to the shop they would have their eyes burned out from the energy pouring into the room.

 

Crowley had forgotten how calm Aziraphale’s grace felt.  Rolling over him like a steady downpour, cool over his warmth like a rain on a summer day. He had forgotten how beautiful his wings were, that he was just more than just a normal angel and the crown above his head instead of a halo* was the proof of that.  He was a beautiful silver-grey with white wings and nothing had ever looked so beautiful.  At the same time though he saw what the witch had ben talking about. There were vein-like lines trailing along his form, bright gold against the pale grey.  It was still beautiful and gorgeous but it wasn’t supposed to be there. He stretched out his senses and almost pulled away from the angel when he felt what the gold was.

(* According to Wikipedia, “ Principalities are shown wearing a crown and carrying a spectre”)

Aziraphale was having a similar experience.  Crowley’s midnight black wings were a stark contrast to his now glowing golden body.  His form was marked by his snake-like nature, black scales like freckles all over and fangs coming out from the where a mouth could be. Sharp claws came off of his appendages and reminded him how dangerous his friend could be. He was warm; not the fire and brimstone of Hell but like a rock that was perfect for sunning on.  The thing that was different was thread-like streaks of silver wrapping over his form, dipping around the scales and looking like streaks of water gliding down a window. Pushing forward he felt them and then snapped himself back into the mortal realm, dropping his hands and pulling away from the demon.

 

It took them a moment before they spoke.  They had been so large, so extensive that popping back into their smaller, corporeal forms always took a minute to get used to again.

 

“That was…”  Aziraphale took deep breaths that he didn’t need before focusing on his friend.

 

“Yeah...got an idea there angel?  Cause the only thing I can think of is…”

 

“A deal.  Between us yes but when?  And how could we have not realized such a thing?”

 

They were both silent for a time as Crowley refilled their glasses and downed his drink, tapping at the edge of the glass with his finger.  “Far as I can figure with how...spread out it was I would say it’s been for some centuries.”

 

“Fine but when did we ever make a...a deal like that?  I’m an angel, something should have happened if it had been a deal with a demon, even if it was just you my dear.”  Aziraphale’s face was pinched in concentration and he was clinging to his glass with both hands wrapped tightly around it.

 

“I can’t tell if you just insulted me or not.  Granted if down below had found out it I probably would have gotten a medal for “corrupting an angel” or something like that.  And we have made a deal remember? We just don’t call it that.” He pointed at him before taking a drink, “we just call it an ‘arrangement’ but really what’s the difference?  You wanted something, I wanted something and boom! I think we even shook on it, memories a bit fuzzy but the wine then was more something better to light fires with than to drink at times.”

 

“Yes, well we were probably lucky we didn’t go blind or something from everything we drank back then.  If, and this is a big if, if that is the case that means, well basically we’ve been...tied together or connected or something for well, millennium.  And if that’s the case then how have our bosses not realized this?”

 

Crowley snorted at that comment and slunch back in his chair, “Probably because neither of them go looking at other people's souls all that often.  Your people are too polite and my people don’t like looking at them, we already know what they look like.”

 

“So what, if we end our arrangement do they go back to normal?  No extra...bits of ourselves in each other?” The decanter was almost empty now but another full one took its place.

 

“No...no that wouldn’t work.  We’ve been doing it too long for us to stop.  Too many years, it’s part of who we are now. You’ll always try to stop me and I’ll always try and stop you and we’ll be miserable if we try and keep away from each other.”  the demon’s hand waved about as he explained this and the angel just nodded along to his rambling. Suddenly the demon laughed and slammed his glass down before pointing. “You sold a piece of your soul to a demon!”

 

Aziraphale sputtered and glared, “Well, you sold a piece of your soul to an angel!”  Both were silent for a moment before breaking out into laughter at how absurd they were being.  

 

“Well, I can’t think of anyone else I would trust with part of my grace.”

 

“Same here angel, same here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was given the task of going through my grandfather's record collection and I found this song. Most of the song doesn't fit with the story but the line "a small piece of your soul" really stuck with me.
> 
> As always I don't own anything; Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and the song "The Arrangement" By Oliver
> 
> Thanks to my sisters for proofreading for my; I loved the part of 'just let them be sappy fucks'


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